


Red and the Wolf

by Jezunya



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Chronically ill character, Genderqueer Character, Other, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Present Tense, Spoonie character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezunya/pseuds/Jezunya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One life over, one that seems it will never end – but maybe together they can find something worth living for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Doop de doo, just throwing up random bits of ofic prose as I have it...
> 
> Chapter 1 originally posted [on my tumblr](http://jezunya.tumblr.com/post/64834486339/the-scene-a-burned-out-barn-sunrise-ash-still).

The scene: a burned out barn. Sunrise. Ash still floats in the air hours after the fact, drifting lazily like snow, settling occasionally on your hair, across your shoulders, before moving on again.

You shouldn't have survived the night.

The embers have cooled by now, central piled mound cushioning the figure within it, deep skin smudged darker with soot. Formed of soot, of ashes, of fire. You can't look away, can barely breathe, afraid a single strong gust could destroy the vision before you, disperse it back into formless cinders, blown away like so many hopes and wishes.

A sudden intake of breath – not from you, yours is held tight and waiting – and you watch the slender ribcage expand, relax, repeat. Eyelids flicker, clench, then, at last, open.

You stare at each other, dirty, burnt, naked, alive.

You shouldn't have survived the night. And yet, here you both are.


	2. Chapter 2

Fire and earth, an unusual pairing.

Fire and water, now those are the elements people usually think of together, the ultimate showdown. Or water and earth: bringing life, growth, rejuvenation. Fire and earth, though, that generally leads only to scorched ruin.

The building around you, what’s left of it, is testament enough of that.

“What’s your name?”

She (she? Probably) sounds determined, resolute – underlay of fear, unease, quashed by force of will. She’s sat up, knees bent in front of her, arms loose at her sides – only mildly perturbed by her own nudity.

You push yourself up as well, ashes falling from your back and shoulders like molted feathers. (Her eyes flick over your bared form briefly, mildly curious.) You tell her your name.

She stares at you.

“Or, roughly translated, ‘the red you never see in a flame.’”

“Right.” She’s still staring. Then she holds out her hand, palm toward you – the usual greeting of this land. “I’m Terra.”

Fire and earth, then.

You shake the ash from your own hand, reciprocate the gesture, know your skin is still burning like the embers it’s made of when she presses your palms together.

Terra doesn’t flinch.

“Nice to meet you, Red,” she says, and you feel yourself smile.


End file.
